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Roald Dahl is one of my favourite children’s authors. Who can forget Charlie Bucket, Willy Wonka, the BFG, or Matilda? His writing shimmers with imagination, memorable characters, wit, and originality. His ability to capture a child’s world is enviable. Where did his inspiration come from?

After reading Roald Dahl’s “My Year”, I thought I would jot down my impressions and memories of August. It’s an experiment in creating a journal as part of the creative process.

As I write temperatures are soaring above 30° C. School is out. September is a distant threat. The days are long. I can write in daylight hours, get outside to swim, hike, paddle, garden, and be with friends and family. Even the daily chores happen at a less frenetic pace. The days meander along, with time to curl up and read a good book, try out a new skill, and just daydream.

August has always been a great month for me.

Even growing up in Australia, where the eighth month comes at the end of winter, I would always look forward to it.

It’s the month I was born and birthday celebrations have always been special for me. As a child, I got to choose what we ate for dinner and, once every five years, it was my turn to have a party. Presents from my parents had a strict $10 upper limit. The dream of owning my own horse was definitely out, but there were some memorable milestones. At ten we were each given a bicycle, bought from a neighbour who constructed them from parts found at the tip. And at thirteen we each got a watch. Every two years, for a decade, my father bought a wristwatch from the repair guy at Wynyard Station in Sydney. I wonder if he knew how big our family was? Sibling gifts usually came in paper bags and had to be bought out of our allowance – second hand books, cheap perfume from the pharmacy or yoyo strings, to be shared with my brothers, were the norm. However, one memorable year my youngest brother proudly presented me with roll-on deodorant. That definitely goes down as the worst gift ever.

As a family, we also had a week’s holiday in Terrigal on the Central Coast of N.S.W. We would load up the green Holden estate with a box of apples, a box of oranges, fruit cake and meals cooked for a week. The old beach house we traveled to had foam boogie boards hidden in storage bins. Days were spent at the beach, braving the waves in hand-me-down Speedos with ribbon holding the shoulder straps on. Evenings were spent in front of a wood burning fire, doing jigsaw puzzles, playing card games, and Monopoly. There was no telephone, no TV and some of the best childhood memories.

What’s your favourite memory of August?

As a storyteller, I regularly find myself in schools and libraries telling age appropriate yarns. These can be traditional tales, myths and legends, family stories or anecdotes. Some stories are known, some are new, and some become requested favourites.

When choosing the stories to share, I usually make a large pot of tea and happily work through my many notebooks and story collections until the right tale strikes a harmonious chord. Recently, when looking for a Remembrance Day story, I came across this story in Steve Killick and Taffy Thomas’ book, “Telling Tales: Storytelling as Emotional Literacy”.

The Two Warriors

Two warriors faced each other, bloodied and bruised from their battle. Exhausted, they slumped to the ground, deciding to renew their fight the following day. Lying side by side as the light faded, they started to talk to each other. One produced a picture of his son back home, who would one day become a soldier like his father. The other told of his daughter back home who would one day be a nurse, to care for wounded soldiers like them. The two enemies continued this way until the sun began to rise. Struggling to their feet, they sheathed their swords, embraced each other, and parted in opposite directions, for truly it is impossible for two people to hate each other when they know each other’s story.

For me, it sums up the power inherent in stories. All that is needed is a teller, a listener, and a tale. The teller and the listener bring something of their own life experience to the moment. Together they’re both making the same journey. A warm relationship grows between the two through that storytelling moment. Connections are made.

As adults, we are often time-poor, but a few minutes of storytelling can transform the way we relate to others. Try:

• Telling your children about your lunchtime, what you ate, where you sat, whom you were with, etc.
• Tell someone about a random act of kindness you’ve experienced, and watch a warm smile spread on your listener’s face.
• Share a moment of success, or a challenge, face-to-face with someone, rather than on social media, and experience the power of live storytelling.
• Recount a memory from your childhood, and feel bonds strengthen.

Then be there to listen. Be part of the teller, tale, and listener triad. Experience the power of making connections, the power of storytelling.